


The Three Times Pap was Fancy

by ChroniclesOfJan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fancy, Fluff, Grandparents & Grandchildren, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm trying my best, Inktober 2020, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, POV First Person, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Paternal Instinct, Short & Sweet, Wholesome, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26906872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChroniclesOfJan/pseuds/ChroniclesOfJan
Summary: My pap is probably the last man you would ever consider “fancy.” Everyday would be an old pair of Levi’s and a Carheart tshirt with a pair of worn work boots. And don’t forget the accessories, including and definitely limited to suspenders and a baseball cap. My pap didn’t dress fancy often, but when he did, he sure made it count.
Collections: Inktober 2020 - Hallmark Types





	The Three Times Pap was Fancy

**Author's Note:**

> New day done! This story really is just going through my childhood memories at this point...life imitates art I guess? Any tips for me, just let me know, I am slowly figuring out how to do this. Sit back and relax and here is Day 7: Fancy.

My pap is probably the last man you would ever consider “fancy.” Everyday would be an old pair of Levi’s and a Carheart tshirt with a pair of worn work boots. And don’t forget the accessories, including and definitely limited to suspenders and a baseball cap.

Despite all of this, I can say from first hand experience that Pap could clean up  _ nice. _

The first example I could think of was his wedding pictures. 

Gram of course was adorable in her knee-length tulle wedding dress, with an ivory cardigan and cat-eye glasses to complete the look. But surprisingly enough, Pap looked just as dapper standing next to her. Hair gelled back and showing one  _ extremely _ defined part, black pants and a white tuxedo jacket. His body is relaxed as he holds onto Gram, but you could see in his eyes the genuine ‘ _ get me the hell out of these clothes _ ’ in his eyes. 

The second time being their 50th wedding anniversary. I was about six at the time, and we as a whole family had gone out to a fancy steakhouse. While not nearly as fancy as he was 50 years ago, a pair of dress pants and a pressed button-down was a crazy difference from the usual Carheart coveralls and neon-orange hunting coats he had just spent all winter wearing. His white hair neatly brushed down against his sun-crisped face. 

But perhaps the most vivid memory I had of my Pap actually caring about his appearance came when I was eight years old.

In my town every spring there was a special dance held for mothers and sons, and then father and daughters. I was my parents’ only child, and had been hearing about the dance at school for weeks. But I knew that it wasn’t for me.

For one, I was about as far from the “fairy-princess” type as one could get, which really seemed like a requirement to attend those sorts of things. I spent all of my free time out playing with the old basketball hoop, or down by the dock sitting with Pap.

The other reason was a bit more out of my control. Dad, at the time, was a night shift coordinator and worked from 7pm to 3am, and I didn’t really think you could go to a father-daughter event missing one of the titular components. 

So you can picture my surprise when out of nowhere one night mom jumped me with a dress from JCPenney’s in her hand. I had no idea what her plan was, but I allowed the primping because I was eight, I felt pretty, sue me. Mom ordered me down into the living room and to wait for my surprise. 

Now, I was no stupid eight year old. I knew that that night was the Father-Daughter dance. But I just couldn’t figure out why I was all dressed up. I  _ knew _ Dad had left for work. He had left not twenty minutes ago, and had promised to take me out for milkshakes over the weekend to make up for missing the dance. So why the heck was I all fancy?

The doorbell interrupted my thoughts, and behind my mom walked my pap. Dressed in black dress pants and a light blue button-down, he was a nice compliment to my navy blue party dress. He had even brought me a bouquet of flowers. 

“Ready to go, Firefly?”

My pap didn’t dress fancy often, but when he did, he sure made it count.


End file.
